


keep shining your light

by katana_fleet



Series: you brought me home [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Swan-Jones Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 16:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12016428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katana_fleet/pseuds/katana_fleet
Summary: "Come on, Killian,” Emma finally whispers to avoid waking the baby. “Come to bed.” He doesn’t answer, just buries his face in her neck in silent agreement. She stands and pulls him after her. They curl up together in their bed, Killian pulling her as closely as physically possible and Emma tangling their feet together.“Hope can sleep without you, you know,” Emma says.“I know,” Killian replies in his gruff sleepy voice. “I just like watching her.”“Me too,” Emma whispers.





	keep shining your light

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'there's hope' by india arie. nothing is mine except for hope. not even killian's insecurities--i didn't invent those. thanks to katniss-annabeth-luna-mellark for reading this and being a source of encouragement and love <3 this is basically a sequel to 'you've got me on a natural high', now evident by the fact that i've made them into a series.

For the first two weeks after Hope’s born, Killian doesn’t let her out of his sight.

If Emma’s feeding her, Killian’s sitting on the bed next to her, his eyes feasting on Hope’s face or Emma’s. If Henry’s holding her and reciting Snow and Charming’s love story, he’s sitting on the couch next to Henry, arm around him, eyes never leaving Hope’s scrunched up face except to grin at Henry every now and then. If someone else has come to the house to admire the baby or to bring over food for them, he’s either lurking in the room while someone’s holding the baby or holding her himself. Usually he’s holding her. He doesn’t like handing her over.

Killian and Emma don’t go to work for those first two weeks at all; David had, at first glance at the baby, informed her parents that he was well capable of taking care of Storybrooke while they stayed home with her. David, of course, had been thinking of the baby’s health and not Emma’s true annoyance with crises and Killian’s overall fragile mental health, both of which were events worth of David’s consideration. They’re fine with the enforced vacation.

Finally, when Killian’s staying in Hope’s room long after she’s asleep, Emma has to interfere. She wanders into the little room, quotes from the storybook Henry lovingly painted on the walls. “Killian,” she whispers. He’s sitting in the rocking chair, staring through the slats of the crib at Hope. It takes a moment but Killian finally sees her, and he smiles softly and raises his hook toward her in silent invitation.

She takes the hook and walks to him, settling on his lap. They both watch the slow up and down movements of Hope’s tiny body. They had done pretty well in her accidental conception. Pretty little thing, Emma thinks proudly. She snuggles into her pirate’s embrace for a moment but can soon feel both of them drifting off into sleep. “Come on, Killian,” Emma finally whispers to avoid waking the baby. “Come to bed.”

He doesn’t answer, just buries his face in her neck in silent agreement. She stands and pulls him after her. They curl up together in their bed, Killian pulling her as closely as physically possible and Emma tangling their feet together.

“Hope can sleep without you, you know,” Emma says.

“I know,” Killian replies in his gruff sleepy voice. “I just like watching her.”

“Me too,” Emma whispers.

The next morning it’s like he’s trying to not hover over her so much—he lets Emma get her in the night and morning, gets breakfast for the two of them and Henry without leaving the eggs to check on Hope, and he actually leaves the room with Hope in Regina’s arms to wake Emma up and tell her Regina’s there to pick up Henry. “I don’t care that Regina’s here,” Emma grumbles. “Tell her to call me if the Wicked Witch of the East decides to rear her ugly head, or a magical green Yeti comes to visit, then I’ll get up.” Then he kisses her briefly and nearly runs back to Hope, probably to make sure that Regina’s not done something with his child.

The next week, Emma forces Killian to return to work, as she can more than handle a baby on her own. Killian protests this, claiming that Emma will need him for something or another, or that Hope will get upset since Henry’s going back to school just as he’s going to work. Less people in the house, or something; Hope won’t know how to handle it. Emma, of course, eventually gets her way and Killian leaves for work with a packed lunch, a kiss left on Hope’s cheek, and only a little complaining.

David calls her that afternoon. “Is Killian okay?”

Emma’s holding Hope while on the phone, and she could swear Hope perks up at the sound of David’s voice. That’s going to be adorable, telling David that his granddaughter recognizes him already. “Yeah, I think so. He didn’t want to go to work but I eventually convinced him otherwise.”

“Yeah, you can watch over Hope by yourself, I should think. It’s just weird.” David’s voice goes lower, conspiring. “He’s sitting at his desk, just staring at that picture he has of you and Henry holding the baby. Just staring, like he’s trying to memorize it.”

Emma raises an eyebrow at Hope, whose eyes follow the eyebrow very well. She can’t help grinning at Hope’s eyes; they’re Killian’s exact eyes, shape and color and expression. She zones back into David’s voice. “Is he working at all?”

“No, and I think that’s the weirdest part. He loves work, can’t handle being idle, you know that.”

Emma’s starting to get concerned, not just because the baby on her arm’s starting her feed-me-now squeak. “He’s not doing anything?”

David pauses a moment, like he’s trying to get a closer look at his son-in-law without him noticing. Emma puts the phone on speaker and leaves it on the counter while she searches the living room for the softly squawking Hope’s pacifier. “Still staring at the picture. I swear he’s been staring at it for five minutes. Eyes not moving. He hasn’t noticed me blatantly eying him.”

Emma grabs the pacifier from the couch cushion, glances at it—clean enough, she’s sure—and pushes it gently into Hope’s mouth. “Well, you’re boss for another few weeks. Either tell him to come home or get back to work.”

Killian gets back home in eight minutes. Hope’s just about to fall asleep again, and Emma’s holding her while trying to catch up on whatever TV show she abandoned after the six weeks of heaven before the Queens of Darkness.

Killian quietly bursts into the living room as only he can and tosses himself on the couch next to Emma, kissing her for a few seconds before brushing a kiss to Hope’s sleepy forehead.

“What is up with you?” Emma asks after she gets her breath back.

“What, love?” Killian, bless him, looks genuinely confused.

Emma raises that eyebrow again. “You’re home four hours early. David called ten minutes ago to inform me that you weren’t working, just looking at a picture on your desk. Then I told him to either send you home or make you work. And here you are.”

She thinks Killian stiffens for a moment, his expression closing off for the briefest of seconds. Then he opens up again, relaxing into the couch, arm around her shoulders, maintaining eye-contact as normal. “I missed you and the little lass. Couldn’t concentrate on Leroy’s latest drunk and disorderly or someone David thinks is going to turn out to be, and I quote, ‘the evil gingerbread man, except not gingerbread’.”

Emma scoffs. “How could the gingerbread man be evil?”

“I asked the same question, love, and David handed me the book.” He brushes his finger down Hope’s face, their expressions finally peaceful and content. Emma relaxes, finally, and snuggles into his embrace. Killian whispers into her ear, “The gingerbread man is evil, Swan. We can’t trust it. And the little lass must never hear the story.”

“Henry can read her anything he wants that’s age-appropriate,” Emma grumbles, the few short hours of laundry, cleaning, and slightly grumpy baby catching up with her. Her last thought is Killian gently taking Hope from her and brushing a tiny kiss on her lips.

She wakes up a few hours later to a quiet house and a few seconds of panic at the time. The slightly painful state of her breasts tells her about what time it is, and she eventually summons the strength to stand and wander up to Hope’s room to see if she’s hungry. Killian’s standing above her crib when she enters. He’s staring into the crib, his gaze unfocused.

Emma stands in the doorway for a moment before seeing the tear tracking its way down Killian’s cheek. She quickly walks up to him, wraps her arms around his waist, and buries her face in his neck as he takes her hand in his. “What is it?” she asks. It’s not begging but it’s close. “Come on, Killian, tell me what’s wrong,” she repeats when he doesn’t answer.

“I’m terrified,” he finally whispers. Hope squeaks in her sleep for a second and he stiffens, staring down at her. “I’ve no idea how to care for a baby, let alone how to raise a child.”

“Nor do I.”

“You have fake memories of raising Henry, at least. I know it’s not comparable, but there’s that knowledge in the back of your mind.” Killian slowly turns in her arms to face her. “I don’t know anything—”

“Yes, you do,” Emma insists, wiping the tear away. “Three, almost four weeks of being out in the world, and Hope definitely has her favorite parent.”

He smiles, that self-deprecating smile that Emma can never decide whether she wants to slap or kiss off his handsome face. He leans his forehead against hers. She can see one more tear making its hot trail down his face.

“Come on, Killian, there’s something else,” she whispers. “Tell me, please tell me.”

He pulls away and leads her to the rocking chair to sit while he kneels at her feet. “When there was that chance we were losing Hope. That’s what made me remember, I think. That I’ve lost everyone. My parents, Liam, Milah, even you.” Emma wipes away another tear and he turns into her hand. “I thought we were going to lose our child, and some nurse whispered what could happen in miscarriage, pregnancy, childbirth—”

They take a shaky breath, almost in unison.

“I’m not sure who she was in the Enchanted Forest, but she should not be a nurse.” Killian’s voice strengthens, but that wobble in the background makes Emma want to cry. “She told me that not only did miscarriages result in the death of the child, which I had unfortunately prepared myself for, but that sometimes, they lose the mother too. That there’s nothing they can do.” He buries his face in her thighs for just a moment and takes a shuddering breath.

Emma wants to kill someone. Stride to the hospital and physically rip this woman’s head from her shoulders.

Killian pulls away and his glassy eyes pierce into her own. “And that was what reminded me. That I’ve lost everyone, and it’s only a matter of time before I lose you, and Hope, and Henry, and even David and Snow, and everyone I care about.”

Emma stares at her husband for a moment, rests her hand on his cheek, feels the agony in his heart that she knows all too well. Then she glares at him. “You think you have the monopoly on losing people?” she demands, still in a whisper. “I told you, years ago, that I had lost _everyone_ I cared for. My parents, every single foster family, Lily, Neal, Henry, Graham, Walsh. _You_. I’ve lost you more times than I want to count.” Killian tries to speak but she cuts him off. “You are _not_ the only one who loses people. If I have loved them, I have also lost them.”

“But—”

“I’m terrified too, Killian,” she whispers. He rests his chin on her knees, his eyes wide and pleading, and she strokes his hair. “But we have to stop being scared of losing everything.”

“I know.”

Of course this is the moment Hope decides it’s a good idea to wake up and fuss about general problems in the life of a baby. Killian stands and lifts the baby out of the crib with the gentleness normally reserved for fine china and hands her to Emma with the utmost care, stepping to her side as she gets the baby situated. Hope starts nursing ravenously and Emma grins down at her.

Then she glances up at Killian. He stands next to them, his attention completely captured on Hope. She can see the moment he realizes Hope didn’t even bother to open her eyes all the way, because his mouth quirks in the smallest smile. She watches his face as he memorizes every facet of their child’s face and her innocent beauty. When Hope’s finished eating and hiccups a little burp of satisfaction, Emma stands to hand her to Killian.

His face _glows_.

“See?” Emma whispers, resting one hand on Killian’s cheek and the other on his arm, just above Hope’s little head. “She’s here. Henry’s in his room, sleeping like the teenage dead. _I’m_ here. You’re not gonna lose us. Never.”

Killian doesn’t say anything. His eyes shine with understanding and relief. He leans down and kisses Hope’s forehead, his lips lingering. Emma rests her forehead against his.

They stand there, in Hope’s nursery, for an indeterminate amount of time. Basking, maybe. In the presence of their daughter, the baby they wanted for so long and feared so much over and loved so intensely.

Later that night, when they’ve finally put Hope down and returned to their own bed, Emma thinks. She rests her head on Killian’s chest and he tightens his arm around her in his sleep. True love really is the most powerful of magic, she considers. For when Killian leaned down and kissed Hope, she could have sworn the room lit up in rainbow lights.


End file.
